


"Where were you?"

by Dibsanddabs



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint being badass, Gen, I wrote this before AOU came out, In that there's no mention of clint having a family, Rated teen for mild violence, first fic, not AOU compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 07:14:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4382324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dibsanddabs/pseuds/Dibsanddabs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint had a good reason for not being there when SHIELD went down.</p>
<p>On a mission in Afghanistan, Clint's comms suddenly drop out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Where were you?"

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there  
> This is my first ever fic posting. I didn't really know how to tag this because it's quite short. Please be kind and if you like it please leave a comment or kudos.   
> Thanks for reading

Clint breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the checkpoint. There was a marking on the wall, a badly drawn eagle that showed it was a SHIELD safe house. He’d been out on an individual observation mission for two weeks when his gps and comms had blown out, just not connecting to the system any more. The mission had been cut short and Clint was looking forward to some human company, even if it was the stiffly held SHIELD agents posted all the way out here in Afghanistan. They weren’t there to take part in the violence or even the clean up as the troops started going home. They were there to observe, they were an intelligence organisation after all.

The first sign that something was wrong came from the door sitting slightly open. Clint removed his bow from his back without even thinking, the action completely reflex at this point, arm ready to reach for an arrow at any sign of trouble. He nudged the door fully open with his toe, his stance dropped and taught. The house was small, just two downstairs rooms and one upstairs, shouldn't be too hard to search fully. Clint walked into the first downstairs room and lowered his bow. Two agents lay dead on the floor. He didn't stand staring, too used to bodies by now, quickly walking through to the other room where the was evidence of fighting but no one there. He quickly climbed the stairs, seeing one more corpse. He closed all the doors, sealing the building quickly. The bodies couldn’t be more than a couple of days old and whoever'd left them had scarpered quick. Clint started taking count of what he knew. There had been five agents stationed here, no signs of forced entry with the only signs of struggle being inside. Either the agents had lets someone in and the other two had escaped without a trace, or the two missing agents had killed these three. Clint couldn’t work out why, but the second one seemed more likely. A corrupt agent was possible, SHIELD letting down their guard to strangers wasn't. He went to the communications desk, seeing that most of it had been destroyed. He searched the agent’s bodies, not finding any radio or transmitting device. “Shit,” He whispered to himself. He was stuck here with no way of reaching the outside world and a threat of being attacked by the people he worked for. Great.

He took a breath, trying to remember where the nearest safe house was, whether nearest meant easiest to get to, where he could walk without putting himself in danger. He vaguely remembered one being talked about a couple of towns over, but the space in between was open ground and open fire if he walked across unprotected. He would have to walk round rather than through, which could take him a week. It was the only thing to do. He found the supplies that had been stocked up and thankfully not taken, threw his mission bag back on his shoulders and mounted his bow, not looking back as he set off for what he hoped would be safety.

-

Six days of almost constant walking later Clint found the house. This one was even smaller, but the door was closed, making it seem almost inviting to him now he'd been alone for three weeks. He knocked, knowing that there was a hidden camera somewhere checking him out, hoping the person behind it was vaguely pleased to see him. He had had more than enough food and water to get him this far so although he was exhausted he was far from dying. It did mean his reactions were a little slow when the door was thrown open and a gun was suddenly to his head. He knocked the gun out of the way, taking the bullet in his upper arm rather than his brain. He didn’t think as he placed an arrow in his attacker’s throat, shooting one more back into the house just as a second agent was raising a gun. He grit his teeth against the pain, stepping over the body in the doorway and picking his arrow out. He retrieved the second arrow, cleaning them coarsely before putting them back in his quiver. He’d found the missing two agents it seemed, unless there were more out here who'd gone rogue. He hoped that wasn't the case. More than two and there might be more to it than he'd previously thought. 

He walked over to their comms, a complicated set up of computers with a lot of information running over them. He placed his hand on the mouse, about to click away and find a way to contact SHIELD, but the screens all changed, flashing the word “UNAUTHORISED”, a count down appearing at the bottom of the central screen. It started on 5, and Clint didn’t stick around to find out what it was counting down to. He ran out of the building as quickly as he could, gripping his bag to him and ignoring the flaring pain in his arm. The blast hit and threw him to the ground. The side of his head cracked against the stone pavement, static coming from his hearing aid before there was silence in his left ear. He didn’t waste time, pulling himself up, checking his bow and quiver was still intact with one hand. He pulled the broken hearing aid from his ear, looking it over and throwing it aside, there was no way to fix it. The remaining part of the building was on fire, no way to salvage anything from there. He hiked his backpack up onto his good shoulder. He’d have to start rationing his supplies, not that he knew where he was going to now. 

He found an abandoned house a few streets over, removing the bullet from his arm, sanitising it and binding it with the small, dwindling med kit he'd been carrying. Now half deaf, wounded, and very soon to be hungry, he had to find a way out. It didn’t seem like SHIELD were the most reliable right now, probably best not to aim for another safe house. Best case scenario would be an empty house with supplies left inside, but the comms probably wouldn't work and he'd have no way of getting out of the country. He had to aim for an army base, they'd still be around for a while yet as the troops were being removed. He had his papers, they’d let him in and possibly tell him what the fuck was going on. The hard part was going to be locating one and getting to it, with no comms, no gps, almost no food or water, and possibly hundreds of miles of hostile territory between him and them. He finished binding his arm, his jaw set against the pain. He didn't have pain medication to waste, he didn't know what might happen and he had to save it while he could. He was good at his job, but he'd gotten used to the security of SHIELD always being in the background, someone to call on. Now he'd have to pull back the survival instincts that had got him the position in the first place.

Even then he might never get out.

-

One month later, an army base just inside the border was visited by a half-dead Clint Barton. He’d been shot at, starved, held hostage for a brief time until he'd broken his way out, just about saving his bow and his backpack. He’d also been offered refuge, fed by those who couldn’t afford it, sheltered by those with american sympathies or even just human empathy. Overall, he’d made it, without a single word from SHIELD or any of the outside world. He showed his papers, waited for three hours as his identity was verified. He was offered medical attention, but he turned it down for now in order to find out what the hell had happened for him to be left stranded and SHIELD agents to start killing each other. He was told about SHIELD, he was told the official story and the secrets that the army knew. He was told about how Nat had started to come clean about everything, pulling the whole thing down with her. He had to admit he was a little proud about that. The army hadn’t known about his mission, only SHIELD did, so when they were destroyed no one thought to check for him. He was seen to medically, transport was arranged for him, he was transferred between bases. After almost two months, Clint Barton was loaded onto a plane that would take him back to America.

-

“Where the hell have you been!? SHIELD went down, and no word from you! Fucking nothing!” Nat shouted as Clint walked into the temporary house she was now staying in. 

“Nice to see you too.” He said, still happy to be able to hear from both ears despite the fact it made her twice as loud. He closed the door behind him, kicking off his shoes. He didn't need to have the whole manners conversation when she was already yelling at him.

“This isn’t a fucking joke Barton!” She snapped. Not many people saw this side of her. She was always so calm and collected, looking like nothing could phase her, but not with Clint. He saw her fear, her anger, her regret even. She hadn’t had them at first, she was trained to kill and not think about the consequences, but slowly she had unravelled. Everything she’d done had fallen down on her, and he’d been there for her. She kept up her assassin’s facade very well, but he knew that occasionally she needed to scream, often at him but he didn't mind, it was better than her breaking in front of anyone else.

“I was in Afghanistan." He said bluntly. "Was for three months in total. Without contact for two of those.” He said, dumping his bag. “I was alone, I was half dead, while over here all shit went down. So don’t you fucking think i’m joking about this." He looked at her seriously, not raising his voice but showing he wasn't messing around. "I was stranded. I couldn’t fucking fly over here to help and believe me, I would have if I could.” He saw Nat’s demeanour change slightly. She’d assumed he’d been in hiding, had played the coward. She hadn’t thought that maybe he had actually not been able to get there. She was quiet for a long time, and Clint wondered whether he should fill the silence, when she spoke softly.

“Sorry.” She said, taking a step back. She didn't drop her gaze, but the apology was a little strained, he anger getting confused.

“As I said, it’s nice to see you." Clint said, relaxing a little, turning more friendly. "Or anyone. Or hear anyone.” He shrugged, going to sit on her couch. “Now are you going to tell me about what went down?" 

She walked to follow him, perching on the arm of the chair. She was uptight, couldn’t be in a vulnerable position. He didn’t mind. 

"Well it turned out that HYDRA-”

“No, I know what went down with SHIELD.” Clint interrupted. Nat’s eyebrow’s raised, questioning what he meant. “I meant what went down with you and Cap while you were in hiding. Don’t tell me you spent a week in close quarters with that guy and didn’t tap it." 

Nat visibly relaxed. She reached out and punched Clint hard in the arm, thankfully not the one with the old bullet wound. They laughed together and Clint felt unbelievably thankful that he’d made the right call on bringing her into his life.


End file.
